The Bathroom Scene, Rewritten
by C.F. Bunnell
Summary: My take on the famous bathroom scene in the Half-Blood Prince and the question that's been posed many times: what if Harry hadn't hurt Draco? I don't own Harry Potter, I simply relish in it's existence.


Harry turned over for the fifth time that night, pulling up his sheets which had become tangled on the foot of his four-poster bed. Recently, he had found himself occupied with theories about his sworn Slytherin enemy, Draco Malfoy, and how he could be connected to Voldemort. It was the third night a row that he had been kept up, unable to feel even the slightest pull towards sleep.

Almost out of habit, Harry's hand closed around a well-folded piece of parchment that he had taken to keeping under his pillow. He whispered to it, keeping his breath soft in fear of waking his roommates. His eyes darted around the page, watching it being bathed outward in deep ink. Automatically, he focused on the Slytherin common room, his eyes squinting in the dim moonlight that was just bright enough to barely make out the nametags of the students. Harry read and re-read the dungeon room, searching for the familiar name. After the fourth attempt, he decided, with some noted excitement, that Malfoy must be lurking elsewhere. And what reason to be out this late other than plotting for whatever task he was assigned?

Harry checked his most frequently monitored location, the Room of Requirement, but found not even Crabbe or Goyle were standing guard in the adjacent passageways. Then, it jumped out at him. In an empty box on the second floor stood the small label of "Draco Malfoy," accompanied not by one of his housemates, but by…Moaning Myrtle? Harry blinked and looked again, but there it was, all written out for him in stark black and white.

Wasting no further time, he rolled off the side of his bed, tip toeing quickly to where his trunk was. The invisibility cloak was stuffed in the corner, creating a rather dramatic _swoosh_ as Harry yanked it up and out.

With the boost of adrenaline and excitement, it took him a matter of minutes to make his way from the Gryffindor Tower down to the second floor. He paused only when he heard the unmistakable cackle of Peeves the Poltergeist echoing from somewhere above him, and a crash resonating throughout the empty hallway.

When Harry reached the bathroom entrance, he pushed gently at the door with bated breath. His wand was clenched tightly in his hand, ready to combat whatever evils faced him on the other side of the door. Perhaps Malfoy was brewing Polyjuice, like Harry had done himself during his second year in this very bathroom. He poked his head through the open door, following quickly with the rest of his body. The door closed behind him with a soft thud.

"Shhh…don't cry," cooed the unmistakable voice of Moaning Myrtle. A gasp and a sob echoed through the bathroom. Harry furrowed his eyebrows, not really comprehending what was happening until he took a few steps past the stall blocking him, and the whole scene came into view.

There was Draco Malfoy, the ice cold Slytherin who had spent years finding new ways to torment Harry, bent over a cracked sink, tears streaming down his face. Harry felt rooted to the spot, his stomach sinking abruptly. He glanced quickly between a hovering Myrtle and the crying boy.

' _So, Malfoy was the boy in here crying before'_ Harry thought to himself in disbelief.

"You don't underst-stand," moaned Malfoy in a distinctly broken voice. His knuckles were white from his death grip on the sink, and his face was sickly pale for someone who was crying.

"Just tell me what's wrong," Myrtle pleaded, her face arranged into a caring expression Harry hadn't seen on her before.

"I – can't" Draco forced out, his teeth gritted as his grip on the sink tightened even further. A choked sob cut through the silence as the Slytherin bowed his head even further. Harry took a step to the side to get a better view. Suddenly, he felt a tug as his cloak became caught on the edge of the stall, which wouldn't have been a tremendous problem had he stayed upright. But, as he stepped out, his foot landed in a small puddle of water, sending him slipping out from under the cloak and into view.

As Harry desperately scrambled to his feet with his wand outstretched, Myrtle screamed, and Malfoy spun on his feet to face Harry. His eyes widened and then narrowed.

"Potter! You'll pay!"

Harry had just risen in time to block a deep burgundy streak of light that was speeding towards his face.

"Stop! Stop!" shrieked Moaning Myrtle, floating over them hysterically. Anger bubbled up inside Harry, tainting his conscience. A certain curse scrawled in the margins of his potions book popped into his mind. Well, Malfoy was certainly an enemy. What's the harm?

"Sectumsempra!" Harry shouted, causing Myrtle to wail and dive into her toilet with a _splash_.

Malfoy turned even whiter as he jumped aside and parried the curse. He stumbled for a moment, swearing as his feet tangled and he fell against the wall. Harry took advantage of this turn of events by quickly yelling "Expelliarmus!" and watching with a certain amount of satisfaction as Draco's dark wand flew across the room and into Harry's outstretched hand.

Draco leaned against the wall heavily, glaring with his eyes trained on his nemesis. He tried to send one of his famous sneers in Harry's direction, but it came out looking more like a pained grimace.

"Well done Potter. Off to go brag to your little fan club?"

Harry said nothing, his eyes surveying the blond boy's frail form. Draco had already been rather skinny as it was, but now his cheekbones stuck out beneath dark circles hollowing out his eyes. To put it bluntly, he looked downright ill. Harry tried to tell himself that he hated Malfoy, that he was simply curious, and who wouldn't be? But for whatever the reason, he couldn't help the question from rolling out of his mouth.

"What's…wrong" Harry asked, keeping his tone level. Draco looked taken aback, and the bathroom was thrown into a state of silence for a few long seconds before he recovered with a scornful look.

"And what do you care? Trying to be the hero again? Want more attention?"

Harry narrowed his eyes and took a few steps closer to the Slytherin. At this distance, he could see Draco's hands were shaking slightly as he fidgeted with the creases on his baggy, white dress shirt.

"Did you daddy stop sending you allowance?" Harry mocked, taking a step closer. "I suppose he's too busy for you now that he's off doing Voldemort's -"

Draco cut him off, closing the gap between them with a hard shove.

"Don't say his name!" Draco hissed turning even paler to the point where he was tinted gray. Harry noticed with some confusion that Malfoy's voice seemed quite scared rather than angry, as he would have expected him to be. Harry fumbled for a moment, grabbing Draco's wrists and pushing him back against the wall.

"What does he want you to do?" Harry demanded, his green eyes piercing into Draco's bloodshot gray. The Malfoy cursed him out, struggling and knocking Harry off him.

"You don't know anything!" Draco screamed, his voice wavering slightly as he shoved Harry into the floor. The Gryffindor raised his wand up towards the thin boy's form, but Draco seemed to pay that no mind. His hands were curled into fists at his side, and his whole body was taut with tension. He was shaking not only in his hands, but all over now.

"You know nothing!" Draco yelled again, his voice breaking on the last word as his chest heaved erratically. He took a few steps backward until he bumped into the wall, and that small jolt was enough to persuade his knees to give out. Draco slid down the wall, a strangled noise being ripped from his throat as he sobbed once more.

Harry lowered his wand, his mouth slightly open. He was dumbstruck. Whatever Voldemort was telling Draco to do, it must be bad. This was his focus, and he kept reminding himself of it. But there was something else poking at his mind, trying to unravel the string in his conscience.

Malfoy was his enemy. He had been since his first day at Hogwarts. So why was his resolve crumbling at the sight of him falling apart? Why did he pity him? Why did he want to _help him?_ He should be happy, but instead…something was coming from his stomach, tugging him towards the pale boy on the floor.

Harry pushed himself to his feet and strode over to where the blond was sitting with his face burrowed in his arms. Draco cursed again, his orders for Harry to get out muffled in his shirt. As Harry started down at him, emotions swirled in his stomach like a whirlpool. After a moment, Harry ignored the logical part of his brain urging him to cast a hex, or at the very least leave, and lowered himself to the ground a few feet beside Draco.

Draco glanced over at Harry and groaned, resting his head against his knees again.

"Why," he moaned, his voice catching again, "Can't you just leave?"

"You know me," Harry muttered, staring straight ahead at the stalls. "Always want to be the hero." He turned his head, expecting some sort of remark back, but Draco's head was still buried deeply into his folded arms. Harry sighed. "What does he want you to do, Malfoy?"

Draco lifted his head, stretched his legs out in front of him, and scowled.

"You know I can't tell you."

"Look, I know we're far from friends, but -"

"He'll kill my parents," Draco whispered miserably, starting ahead at nothing. "He'll kill them if I tell you." Harry noticed the boy's dull eyes were becoming glossy again, and he stared at him for a moment.

"Do you want to?" Harry asked, eliciting a confused look from Draco in return. "Whatever it is, do you want to do it?" Draco's eyes slid away from Harry and he opened his mouth, hesitating. He closed his eyes, his breath rushing out in a shaky sigh. When he opened his eyes, he looked over at the Gryffindor and shook his head. They sat in silence for a few moments, Harry looking at his lap and Draco at the celling with his head against the wall.

"Okay," Harry said finally, pushing himself to his feet. Draco stared up at him, his mouth twisted in an expression resembling disgust with a hint of embarrassment.

"What?" Draco spat, making the question sound more like a statement. Harry rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his unruly dark hair.

"We can go to Dumbledore, and tell him, and he'll -" Draco cut him off with a scoff, shaking his head.

"Yeah right," Draco laughed humorlessly as he started to stand. "I know you're his golden boy but I'm…" The Slytherin tapered off suddenly as he turned green tinted and swayed on his feet as if hit by a strong gust of wind.

"Woah," Harry said, reaching out and grabbing hold of Draco's arm as the boy braced himself against the wall, mouthing wordlessly. Harry tilted his head and watched the faint blond, who was blinking rapidly. Harry could feel a couple bones sticking out near Draco's elbow. "When's the last time you ate something?"

"Don't know," Draco gasped, looking pained.

"Today?"

"No." The Slytherin was beginning to recover, moving to stand on his own now.

"Yesterday?" Harry asked incredulously. Draco clenched his jaw and rubbed his temples.

"No." When Draco was met with silence, he looked back to find Harry who was staring at him, eyes narrow and mouth slightly open, like he was an idiot. "Not that it's any of your business, Potter." Harry shot Draco a dirty look and crossed his arms.

"Fine," he said, walking towards the door. "You get your way. We won't go to Dumbledore now. But we're at least going to the kitchens." Draco raised his eyebrows and smiled patronizingly like he was talking to a child.

"And you really think I'm going anywhere with you?"

"Well," Harry began, "I don't think you want me telling all of our year how big bad Malfoy was in here crying to Moaning Myrtle, now do you?" The smile quickly fell off Draco's face, replaced by a dark glare.

"No one would believe you." Draco said slowly, looking exceptionally murderous.

"Maybe not," said Harry, taking a few leisurely steps towards him. This was quite enjoyable. "But if I take a drop of Veritaserum they will." Draco's mouth fell open, his face being contorted with anger and disbelief.

"You – you don't have any of that stuff," he sputtered. Harry's smile stretched even wider.

"Ah, you're right," Harry said, pretending to be stumped. Draco watched him warily. "But," Harry continued, earning an eye roll from Draco in response. "I'm sure Professor Slughorn has some. And you know, I am his star student…" Harry knew he had bested Malfoy from the dumbfounded look on the boy's face.

The two of them stood unmoving, both refusing to break eye contact. Finally, Draco scowled yet again and stormed towards the door, nearly bumping into Harry in the process.

"Fine, whatever Potter. We'll get _food_ ," The Slytherin drawled, looking significantly put off and annoyed. As Harry joined his side and the pair began to walk out of the bathroom, Draco stopped suddenly, his nose wrinkled in distaste.

"What?" Harry asked, stopping too.

"You're just insufferable!" Draco complained loudly, walking forward again. He looked pained. "I can't believe everyone is relying on you to save the world. You! As if."

"Thanks," Harry muttered in aggravation as he followed the Malfoy out the door.


End file.
